The Special Two
by Milk and Glass
Summary: A non-incestuous story about Archer and Addison's relationship. As Addison watches her brother slip into a coma, she remembers all that he's done for her - and reflects on how special he is to her. I'm trying something new.


The humming of the monitor beside his bed is the only sound in the room. It's a grey day, as it always is in Seattle, but this time, it seems to be a place in limbo. Grey walls, and grey sheets, and the feeling of wet over everything – yeah, this is Seattle. And you've always felt that if there's ever going to be a place that's good to die in, this is probably it. It seems wrong to take pleasure in the weather when there's a good chance you'll lose your brother.

It's like some surreal play – your strong, your cocky, your incredibly-smiley brother, playboy, neurosurgeon, all his labels that make up who he is and yet one wouldn't be sufficient to describe him – he's lying in bed and there's a good chance he'll never wake up. It's surreal, because it seems like five minutes ago, he was who he always was – annoying, amazing Archer, your big brother and protector.

_I've hardly been outside my room in days,_

_'Cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays._

_The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,_

_And it was then I realized the conscience never fades._

People called you a matched set – matching red hair, that's faded into brown-grey for him with a hint of the fiery colour it used to hold; yours kept up with colour that's just slightly less carroty than what you had as a child. He was always tall, but so were you – people used to think that you were twins, long ago. He's four years older than you, and when you were born, he didn't want a baby sister.

He'd stood beside your crib (this, now, the memories of the nanny who told you stories when you were lying in bed, unable to sleep), and made a face at you.

"I don't want any baby sister. I'm the baby!"

"Now, Archie, don't say things like that," your mother had replied. "That's not very nice to baby Addison."

"Why does she have such a silly name? I don't like her name at all."

At this point, your mother, never really able to handle small children at the best of times, had left the room. Your nanny, Katie, had crouched down beside the big-for-his-age little boy with the defiant blue eyes.

"She doesn't have a silly name. She has a name that matches yours. She's going to be your little sister – that's very important, Archer."

"Why?"

"Because now you've got someone to look up to you. You're going to be one of the most important people in her life. That's pretty special."

"But I won't be special to Mommy and Daddy anymore," pouted Archer, not that he was really that noticed by his parents anyway.

"Sure you will. You and Baby Addison, you'll be the special two – special to me, and to your Mommy and Daddy, and to everyone in the family."

Archer reached into the crib, let your tiny fingers wrap around his bigger finger, and smiled. "She's strong."

"Little babies aren't helpless. Soon she'll be able to play with you, and you'll have someone to talk to when everyone else is busy. You'll always have a friend, Archer."

Archer had stared into your blue eyes, just like his, and put a hand in the crib to touch your soft cheek. Then he'd smiled.

"The special two – I like that. Special in this family!"

_When you're young you have this image of your life,_

_That you'll be scrupulous and one day, even make a wife._

_And you make boundaries you'd never dream to cross,_

_And if you happen to, you wake completely lost._

In high school, he'd been annoying. "Addison, I don't want you going out with Bobby Smith. He's a moron and anyway, I heard what he does with chicks."

You'd sighed, flipping your long red hair back over your shoulders. Tall and gangly, with unsightly braces and thick glasses, it's not like you'd had many prospects back then. "I'm not sure why you can't stay out of it, Archie."

"Addie . . . come on." He'd given you his winning smile and you'd punched him in the arm.

"Leave me alone."

"Seriously, Addie . . . just listen for once! I don't think he's going to be nice to you," Archer had muttered. As the captain of the football team, it'd been hard on you to be the band geek and watch him be your father's golden boy. Even then, he'd had a reputation for being a playboy.

Later on, when he found you crying behind the school, he hadn't said "I told you so", as you'd deserved. Bobby Smith had ensured that geeky Addison Montgomery had been humiliated in front of the entire junior class – he'd never had the intention of going out with you, which hurt, despite the fact that you knew somewhat in the back of your head that this might happen.

He'd just put an arm around your shoulder and you cried into his musty-smelling football jacket.

"It doesn't matter, Addie. He's a loser. You're not going to stay a loser forever."

And he was right.

_But I will fight for you,_

_Be sure that I will fight,_

_Until we're the special two once again._

Now, he lies in bed, his twinkling blue eyes closed, and you realize that all these years, he's been there to protect you – and now there's a good chance he'll never protect you again.

It's not that you're a woman who needs a man to constantly make sure that you'll be okay – but you've always had someone in your corner.

Archer's always had your back.

_And we will only need each other, we'll breathe together,_

_Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,_

_And we're the special two._

It's so like him to not tell you that he needs help. It's like him to keep stuff like this from you – like he kept Daddy's transgressions from you for years, preferring you to think of him as a good man instead of someone who cared very little for the family he'd reluctantly created.

Archer used to say that Joseph Montgomery had two fronts – the one he used with his proper family, and the one he used with everyone else. As he grew up, Archer fast lost respect for a man who refused to play catch with his son, or tell his daughter how pretty she looked on her prom day.

So it was Archer who snapped pictures of your first dance – your first prom – your wedding day. Archer walked you down the aisle; Archer had a serious talk with Derek, and then again with Mark Sloan (which involved several punches) when you had your heart broken by both.

Joseph Montgomery lay under the sod for years, but Archer protected you from his real self until he felt you were old enough to know the truth.

And then, you turned on him.

_I remember someone old once said to me,_

_That lies will lock you up with truth the only key._

_But I was comfortable and warm inside my shell,_

_And couldn't see this place would soon become my hell._

Nearly a year went by, and you wouldn't speak to him. How could he keep the fact that Joseph Montgomery might have other children from you? And then he turned the same way – you saw it in his fast and loose way with women, with never settling, choosing people whom he thought were disposable. You couldn't believe that this man, who had always seemed to be one constant in your life, turning into someone that not even the lowest woman would depend on.

The worst thing was, he never gave up. Through the hang-ups, the shouting matches, the slap you gave him on a drunken night after Mark – after your mother ended up giving up on life and becoming even less of a parent than she already was – he patiently came back. He never apologized for who he was – but he never gave up on you.

_So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save their face?_

_Well I guess the answer is, don't do it in the first place._

_I know I'm not deserving of your trust from you right now,_

_But if by chance you change your mind, you know I will not let you down,_

_'Cause we were the special two, and we'll be again._

You wring your hands now – hair shorter than you've ever had it, blue eyes covered by contacts instead of the glasses you wore for so many years – and realize, you're the same little girl who used to crawl in bed with Archer in the middle of the night when you were scared by thunderstorms; the same girl who cried on his shoulder after another guy broke your heart – the same girl who hung back at his football games, trying to ignore his catcalls at you but at the same time, shining with pride at the thought of just getting to be his sister.

He's not the same Archer, but you're the same Addison.

_I step outside my mind's eyes for a minute._

_And I look over me like a doctor looking for disease,_

_Or something that could ease the pain._

_But nothing cures the hurt you, you bring on by yourself,_

_Just remembering, just remembering how we were . . ._

"Archie," you begin, "I've spent the last week mad at you. And you deserved it. I hate you for this."

His hand settles under its own weight as you drop it to stem the flow of tears, and you watch his fingers, willing them to move. "But you don't get to leave because I was a bitch. You don't get to punish me like this.

"I love you," you whisper, close to his ear. "You were the best person in my life and I want you around for the rest of it. Come back, okay? I love you."

No matter what, you'll always need a bigger brother – you'll always need Archer to pull you out of the worst messes you could get yourself into. You may have your own life, but you'll always need him there.

Siblings are closer in blood than even parents and children are – it's more than blood, though.

He's your best friend.

_And we could only see each other - we'd bleed together,_

_These arms would not be taught to need another's,_

_'Cause we're the special two._


End file.
